


Picture Perfect

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Underage Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: That's what it comes down to. Jeremiah is a liar, a pathetic little liar born out of acid and raised in poison.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> yo girl is obsessed with jeremiah's past lately. so this happened. it's been in my drafts for almost a month, i hope it's any good lmao i probably gotta edit some parts but it's gonna get deleted tomorrow so i felt the need to finish it and it's way too late over here and i have work tomorrow and yada yada yada who gives a shit
> 
> anyway i promise i'll be focusing on twinleska again now. it's still and will forever be my oxygen.
> 
> love goes out, you lovely people
> 
> ~ jam 💙

The room is silent except for the sound of cutlery against plates. It adds to the overall eery atmosphere the dining room possesses, with the dark wood furniture, the tiny crystal figurines on every surface, the steady clicking of the grandfather clock in the center of the east wall. Jeremiah feels like it's getting louder with every click but he knows it's just an illusion.

Although a welcome one. Howard clears his throat and Jeremiah flinches, clutching his fork and knife tighter. He's been cutting at the foie gras on his plate for several minutes now. He has no intention of eating it.

Across from him, Beatrice has at the very least managed a bite or two, but she's had the same piece of liver on her fork for about two minutes. Jeremiah focuses on the slight tremble of her hand.

She's always had that tremor, he remembers his first day at the residence, when she lifted her hands to cup his face between them, tears of joy in her icy blue eyes. She's already had it back then. It keeps getting worse.

Beatrice notices him staring and Jeremiah quickly looks down on his plate, cheeks flushed at being caught. He hopes Howard didn't notice.

"How was school today, sweetheart?", Beatrice asks, the cheery tone she manages to uphold no matter the circumstances unwavering. Jeremiah dares to throw a side glance at Howard but he pays them no mind, deeply invested in the text whichever client just sent him.

Jeremiah isn't sure what Howard does, how the Wildes reached this level of wealth. He tried to ask once and his skin crawls at the memory so he quickly dismisses it, gulping down the lump in his throat and trying to lift his gaze enough to look Beatrice in the eye.

He fails, so he keeps staring at his foie gras. "School was fine, thank you", he says, his voice much raspier than he'd prefer. He reaches for his glass of water.

"Did you have fun? Did anything special happen?", Beatrice asks again and Jeremiah feels the heat rise to his cheeks again. 

_Rough hands on his hips, cold tiles against his back, teeth biting at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Jeremiah bites back a whine which earns him a rough grip in his hair. Marcus yanks his head back, his breath hot against Jeremiah's throat. "Lemme hear ya, Xandy boo..."_

He really wishes he could just leave the dinner table and retreat to his room. But he would never dare to ask. "I helped Ecco with her math homework", he lies instead. It's not even a good lie. Ecco doesn't need help with math, all they ever do is sit next to each other while Ecco reads and Jeremiah draws, or vice versa. But even though telling Beatrice this wouldn't technically be lying (and definitely better than announcing how he actually spends his breaks) Jeremiah doesn't think he should.

Beatrice worries about him. She worries about his introverted nature, his anxiety, his lack of social skills. Jeremiah knows she means well and he wishes he could give her what she wants for him. He wishes he could be normal. 

_Normal_.

Even thinking about that word triggers something within him, like an electric rod prodding at his brain. He gulps down his water, hating, _hating_ that it's nothing stronger.

Maybe later, when Howard and Beatrice are sleeping. He's been sneaking into Howard's alcohol cabinet since he was twelve.

"Xander."

Jeremiah almost chokes on his water. For a second, he comes to the horrifying conclusion that Howard read his thoughts. He quickly sets the glass down and sits up straight, hands in his lap and eyes on Howard. "Yes, Sir?"

Howard is still looking at his phone, his eyes just a little bit bloodshot and his face sunken. Jeremiah is very familiar with the cosmetic alterations that come with substance abuse. Far too familiar.

"There is something that I've been wanting to talk to you about", Howard continues, blindly reaching for his whiskey. The bottle next to it is half empty. "Regarding this little girlfriend of yours."

Jeremiah's cheeks heat up. _Gross_. "She's not my -", he tries to say but he closes his mouth when Beatrice coughs. He quickly looks at her and sees her reaching for her own water. But her eyes are on him, wide and sharp and something about it makes Jeremiah's blood run cold.

Is she simply trying to stop him from interrupting Howard? Or does she _know_? 

Howard doesn't comment on it. "You are my son", he says and Jeremiah ignores the twist of his stomach, "and certain things are expected of you. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Because the things you do directly impact your mother and I. Understand?"

"I do, Sir."

Howard takes a sip before putting the phone away. He keeps ahold of his glass though, finally looking Jeremiah in the eye. It takes all of his willpower not to shrink under his gaze. "Good. Because this is something that we've discussed before and yet I find that either you forgot or you don't value my criticism, both of which are unacceptable because that is _not_ how I raised you."

Jeremiah tenses up, about to sputter an apology but Howard lifts his hand, effectively shutting him up. "I know you are fond of that girl and I know it can be...difficult to act beyond one's emotions. However, I do not want you associating with that street rat."

There's a hateful undertone in his voice, additionally to the insult and Jeremiah suppresses a wince. Ecco doesn't talk about her past, and Jeremiah doesn't ask. It's rare that she makes a comment regarding her life before St. Ignatius and it's what drew Jeremiah to her in the first place. They are both ghosts. Masks really, hiding something so barbaric and hideous that they had to dive under.

Jeremiah does know that Ecco's father drank. And he was abusive, to her and her younger siblings, siblings she loves dearly. Her younger brother and baby sister she doesn't know the whereabouts of. They were four and three when she last saw them. Ecco was six. Jeremiah knows that she still misses them. It eats away at her every day.

Another prod at Jeremiah's memory. He ignores it.

Across from him, Beatrice is visibly affected by his harsh words. "Howard...", she tries but Howard doesn't let her go on.

"That's where she was found before weaseling her way into St. Ignatius", he says with so much venom in his voice that it feels like Jeremiah's insides were set on fire. Howard never breaks eye contact with him while saying it either. "On the streets. I will never understand how Benjamin could allow such filth inside these honored halls."

Benjamin Williams is the Headmaster and was Howard's classmate when they were still students in St. Ignatius, and Howard played a huge part in the restoration of the ancient building. Money-wise, that is.

"Ecco is intelligent", Jeremiah tries to explain, twisting his fingers together in his lap. Howard can't see it under the table. "That's why she got that scholarship. She's -"

Howard's fist connects with the wooden table. Plates, glasses and cutlery shake and cry. Jeremiah's heart jumps up into his throat.

"I will _not_ have my family associated with the likes of that _cockroach!"_ Howard's voice is like a jackhammer, loud and destructive. "We've been over this! Do I really have to repeat this same speech over and over?"

"No, Sir." Jeremiah thinks it's about time for the floor to rip open beneath him so that he can finally disappear. 

"Apparently I do! I've talked to Isaac. You haven't even _tried_ making friends with his son!"

Jeremiah is painfully reminded of the ugly bruise forming right above his hip bone. A tingle spreads over his skin and his face feels hot. 

Isaac Olson is a top class lawyer and one of Howard's most valued business partners. His son is Marcus.

Howard is no longer sitting, his hands pressed flat to the table, towering over them like a demon tormenting the sinners. "Instead of wasting your time with some lowlife girl in her first year, you should be connecting with your peers!"

Ecco is thirteen, she was smart enough to start her education a year too early. Jeremiah was able to skip several classes due to his skills and knowledge but he is fourteen, which makes Ecco his peer. All of Jeremiah's classmates are at least two years older than him, a fact Howard chooses to ignore when it's convenient. 

Jeremiah's fingers are starting to get sore but he can't stop twisting them. "Marcus is seventeen", he whispers bravely, pointedly ignoring Beatrice's gaze boring into him, silently begging him to stop talking. "And he...he doesn't like me..."

Lies, lies, lies. Marcus likes him a _lot_. But Marcus' type of affection is a _special_ one, one that offers Jeremiah a familiar sense of comfort he grasps at like a lifeline.

~~_(Mask. Xander is Jeremiah's mask.)_ ~~

"Maybe he would like you if you stopped acting like a frightened little boy and started acting like a _Wilde_!"

Jeremiah squeezes his eyes shut, his chest burning with the intensity of a thousand white hot suns. He inhales deeply, about to burst, his mind flickering in and out of awareness like a broken camera. He's hearing faint voices, knows one of them is Howard's, another belongs to Beatrice but there is another one, the cry of a siren, a call from his past, accompanied by a deep rumble that follows him into his darkest nightmares.

Then he hears his own voice. Except it isn't, not really, Jeremiah's voice is usually quiet and shaky, afraid of being heard but _this one_ is confident, loud, bitterly cheerful.

"Valeska", the voice says but it's coming out of Jeremiah's mouth before he can stop it, like someone was using him like a puppet, making him say things he'd otherwise never dare to. 

Silence follows. Thick and unrelenting. Jeremiah isn't opening his eyes, can't, doesn't think he ever will again. His fingers are sore. His cheeks feel wet.

"What did you just say?"

Jeremiah is sorry, he's _so_ sorry, he wants to take it back, he should take it back, he should never have _said_ it - 

"I'm a Valeska", the voice repeats and even though the words are coming out of Jeremiah's mouth again, it's like they're spoken right into his ear. Jeremiah feels the illusion of hot breath on his neck, warm lips pressing against his skin, an identical hand holding his - 

~~_There's no cure for being a Valeska, baby bro._ ~~

"My study. _Now_."

Jeremiah gasps in air like he just resurfaced from the ocean. His eyes snap open when he hears Howard's chair scrape over the floor as he pushes it towards the table. Beatrice's face is void of color, her lower lip is trembling as she's staring at Jeremiah in horror. 

Jeremiah himself is frozen, every single one of his muscles starting to hurt, his heart sinking into his stomach, both of them twisting together in agony, _no no no, please, not that, I'm sorry -_

"Dear, please don't -!"

A smack. A cry. Beatrice is pressing a hand to her cheek. Jeremiah sees it but it doesn't reach his heart, not the way it should. This is how it always goes. She's cowering. ~~_Something Lila never did._~~

Howard's voice seems very far away. _"_ Shut your mouth or you can watch."

* * *

Howard's shoelace keeps slipping through Jeremiah's trembling fingers. He's already at the second one but he feels like he's been kneeling like this for hours, forced to proceed no matter how much he tries to avoid the inevitable. Howard doesn't comment on it, he never does. He's sitting patiently in his armchair and Jeremiah can feel his gaze on him, burning a hole into his scalp.

He's able to hear faint crying coming from the hall, moving away until it's faded completely. Jeremiah's throat feels tight. 

He's managed to untie the shoelace and proceeds to pull the shoe off Howard's foot. A sturdy hand appears in his field of vision. Jeremiah squeezes his eyes shut, handing the shoe over, every inch of his skin crawling with dread.

Howard clears his throat and Jeremiah flinches. He stands on shaky feet, gaze fixated on Howard's tie, his heart stopping for a second when he sees that its loosened. His legs are parted just slightly, enough to provide some support as Jeremiah moves to lay across his lap. 

He's shaking all over now, every breath feels like a squeeze of his lungs. One of Howard's hands rests heavily on his back while the other is pulling his pants down. He's still holding the shoe with it too. They've done this enough times.

A shiver runs down Jeremiah's spine and as always, he can't possibly tell whether it's because of the cool air against his bare ass or because of what's about to happen. He has to assume it's the latter. Not that it would make a difference.

But over-thinking is good. It's a distraction. It helps.

~~_It doesn't._ ~~

"What am I?", Howard demands right before a flash of pain travels from Jeremiah's backside through the rest of his body as the sole of the shoe is brought down against his bare rear. 

Jeremiah doesn't try to hold back the tiny gasp bursting from his throat. "My father", he whispers then, earning a small pat from the hand that's still pressed flat to his back. It's humiliating to the core. 

"What makes me your father?"

Howard strikes him again and Jeremiah involuntary grips the fabric of his pants, wanting, _needing_ something to hold on to. "You wanted me."

"That's right. And who didn't want you?"

 _Smack_. 

"My real father."

 _Smack_. "He abandoned you in a rat's nest." _Smack_. "He allowed you to be raised by circus folk." _Smack_. "He let an addict slut poison your mind and soul."

 _Smack_. Jeremiah isn't even trying to keep his sobs to a minimum, his backside is on fire, his skin feels too tight for his body, he's so hot and everything hurts, he hates this, he hates himself for letting it be like this, he hates Howard, hates hates _hates Howard_. 

"I took you in." _Smack_. "I _wanted_ to raise you as my own because I saw your potential." _Smack_. "Your whore mother and redneck uncle saw it too, otherwise they would never have contacted me."

More lies. Howard's argumentation is based on lies because that's what it comes down to, that's what Jeremiah is, a liar, a pathetic little liar born out of acid and raised in poison. 

"Even they knew. You were too good, too smart, too precious for that kind of environment." _Smack_. "You are destined to be better." _Smack_. " _I_ am destined to _make_ you better." _Smack_.

It hurts so bad, it _hurts_ , Jeremiah is squirming and struggling in Howard's lap without control, hot tears running down his cheeks and fogging up his glasses. "Please..!", he croaks, more tremor than voice, knowing what's coming next, hating that there's nothing he can do to stop it. "Stop, I'm so sorry, _please_..!" 

Howard easily moves him towards his desk, pulling Jeremiah's pants down to his ankles. He digs his fingernails into the wood, heart pounding so hard it feels like it's going to break out of his ribcage. "You are my chance at a legacy."

Jeremiah cries out, two fingers prodding at his hole without any kind of lubrication. Jeremiah hates that he thinks his body should be used to it. "You are _my_ _son_."

A cruel jerk of Howard's hand. It burns, the stretch unrelenting and making Jeremiah think Howard is about to rip him in two. "And yet, despite everything I've done for you, everything I _keep_ doing for you, _what_ are you?"

The fingers are scissoring in and out of him at a brutal pace, leaving Jeremiah a miserable, whimpering mess. "Un...ungrateful..!", he sobs, knowing that's what Howard wants to hear, it's what Howard always wants to hear. 

Howard moves his fingers quicker. "You were merely skin and bones when you came here. Because your useless mother didn't bother to feed you two."

_You two._

And for a second the pain is forgotten, consumed by a merciless rage that has Jeremiah's blood boiling because how _dare_ he, how _dare_ Howard mention him, how _dare_ \- 

The fingers are ripped from his hole and Jeremiah chokes on his own spit. He can feel Howard's weight on top of him as he moves in closer. "Do you want to go back?", Howard breathes right next to Jeremiah's ear, his skin feeling so hot that he's certain it's going to peel off of his bones. "Do you want to live a miserable life in dirt and poverty?"

 ~~ _That's not all it was_.~~ "No..!"

He can feel the tip of Howard's cock pressing against his entrance. "What do you want then, _son_?"

His mind and heart are caving in as he is ripped to pieces, he wasn't made for this, he can't endure this, and he never _had_ to, he never had to because - 

"I want..." 

_~~Jerome~~. _

"I want to..."

 _ ~~Jerome~~_. 

"...be good..."

 _I want Jerome_. 

"Please...father..!"

Jerome always took it, every punishment, every beating, all the harsh words, all the violence and hurt, Jerome took it. Jerome took it so Jeremiah didn't have to. Jerome ended up broken because he loved too much, he loved _Jeremiah_ too much and every single bruise and scar he gave to Jeremiah was a result of that love, the craving for someone to share his fractured heart with.

Jeremiah couldn't see it back then but he sees _now,_ has for some time and it's why he lets Marcus have his way with him, why he lets his teachers use him, why he let's Howard bend and break him however he sees fit.

Punishment, redemption, longing, it doesn't matter. Jerome matters. Jeremiah wants Jerome, he wants Jerome _back_ but he's sealed that path off, the path they could have shared, he left Jerome on the other side of the bridge and cut the ropes. 

Howard is breathing heavily into Jeremiah's ear as he rocks in and out of him, drinking up his cries. Jeremiah is forced to remember the first time this happened, sees Howard towering above him with bloodshot eyes and reddened cheeks, sweat beads on his temples, Jeremiah's own tiny hands pressing and pounding against Howard's chest. He was twelve years old and it's the very reason he tried to numb himself the same way Howard does, the same way Lila and Zack did.

Jeremiah wants to rip his own skin off. Howard likes to present himself as the one who's above everyone when in reality, he's just as sick as the rest of humanity. It's unforgivable. It needs to be punished. Jeremiah will show him. One day. _One day_. 

Jeremiah's inner walls are painted with his shame when Howard cums, gripping Jeremiah's slender hips through his clothes, leaving marks that are uglier than any of Marcus' could ever be. Jeremiah is shaking, the sweat collecting on his skin making his clothes stick to his body. Awful. Repulsive.

A heavy hand comes up to rest in his hair. Jeremiah wants to bite its fingers off. "I'm very glad we could discuss this."

Jeremiah doesn't want to move but Howard leaves him with no choice, pulling his pants back up before making him stand on shaky feet. Jeremiah is about to collapse. He wishes he would. He's staring blankly at Howard's loosened tie. His fingers twitch. 

The hands on his shoulders feel like burning iron. "It's late, son. Get yourself cleaned up and go to bed."

Jeremiah nods. It's all he can do. Howard doesn't comment on it. It must take all the kindness of his heart.

Everything is throbbing and sticky. Jeremiah winces with every step. The door out of the study and into the hallway seems so far away, unreachable. Jeremiah will forever be stuck in his own personal version of hell.

"Oh and, Xander?"

Jeremiah doesn't stop walking but his ears perk up. He's an animal cornered by a predator. 

Howard's voice is dark and serious. "Never mention that name again."

~~_We're bound together, you and I. We are practically identical. Stop trying to fight it._ ~~

Jeremiah is done fighting it. 


End file.
